


Once Upon a Time

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 15:22:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4792544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Cinderella AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon a Time

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for the darling tumblr user skimmonsaf, who made a post about wanting a Cinderella AU. This story got a little out of hand; apparently I have a lot of fairy tale feels. Either that, or I'm just continuing on my goal to make a Skimmons AU out of every Disney movie ever. Either way, I hope you enjoy this story, Ash!

Skye doesn't remember much before she came to live with Lady Agnes and her two daughters, though she assumes there had to have been a life before that moment. Sometimes she remembers the laughter of her father, a deep rumble in his chest as he scooped her into his arms and twirled her around. Sometimes she remembers a soft voice humming "Daisy Bell" into her ear while tucking her in at night. But those are just dreams, snatches of memories from a life that belongs to someone else. Because the life that belongs to Skye is very simple: wake up, work, sleep.

Lady Agnes found her when she was just shy of eight years old and living off the scraps and generosity of the baker and his wife and of the butcher and his sons and the farmers who would come into town to sell their produce at the market. At first, Skye thought that everything would be better, that she would finally have someone to care for her and a big house to live in with a soft bed and children to play with. She learned very quickly how to be the one doing the care-giving.

But there's no use in thinking about the past, about things that could or should have been. Ten years is plenty of time to forget how she'd longed for things to be and to adjust to how things are. Skye often finds herself thinking on the bright side of things: she does have somewhere to sleep at night, even if it's not a comfortable bed; she does have food, even if it's not the nice meals that she prepares for Agnes and her daughters; she has clothes to wear, even if they are old and soot stained. She is better off than most, she reasons.

Skye tries not to think too hard on any of these things as she steps into the garden early in the morning, shivering in the dawn chill. Eventually the sun will rise and the heat of the day will make it nearly impossible to do anything outside without it seeming twice as hard. She'd rather get her chores over with so she can spend the rest of the day in doors.

Her palms and fingers are callused from years of work in this very garden tilling the land, planting the seeds and tending the plants. Skye kneels down, the dirt cool as it presses into her knees and she hums to herself, all she can remember of that old song from her dreams, as she works.

The sun has just started to burn away the morning mist when another sound attracts Skye's attention. She lifts her head, curious, attempting to decipher the cause of the sound and it's location. It becomes clear enough eventually: the thunder of horse hooves against the ground, the pleas of someone trying to control the beast.

Skye quickly gets to her feet, motivated by curiosity and the need for distraction more than anything else. She can see a figure off in the distance; she can see the horse racing across the pasture that borders Lady Agnes' property. The rider has obviously lost any semblance of control over the animal.

Though she's not really sure why, Skye goes running off in the direction of the wild horse, shouting and waving her arms in an attempt to distract the horse. The animal slows slightly, inquisitive, and that seems to be enough for the rider to regain control, pulling the horse to a stop just as Skye finally reaches them and grabs onto the bridle. It's completely unnecessary now by this point but it makes her feel better, more like she's actually helping the situation.

The rider is quick to dismount, sliding to the ground and stumbling. Skye reaches out to help and the hood of the riding cloak falls away to reveal the red, slightly panicked face of a woman that Skye judges to be not much older than herself. Her hair falls messily around her cheeks and shoulders and her freckles seem to stand out in sharp contrast to the color in her cheeks. She looks at Skye gratefully, relief in her eyes.

"Thank you." She breathes out, her accent suggesting that she's not from the town itself. "I thought I was going to be stuck until we were across the border."

Skye smiles at her instinctively; it's been a long time since someone has actually thanked her for something she's done. "I'm sure the horse would have given up before then." She shrugs. "What happened?"

"A bee." The girl replies. "It's quite embarrassing, really. Normally I'm not such a terrible rider but…I suppose if I had been stung by a bee I wouldn't have been interested in listening to reason either."

The horse gives a nicker of response, tugging on the bridle so it can lower its head and chomp on the grass. Obviously the excitement is over for the time being.

"Thank you." The girl says again, giving Skye's forearm a squeeze. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along."

"It's nothing." Skye assures her sheepishly. "I'm Skye." She blurts this out quickly before she can think to ask herself why it matters.

But the other girl only smiles at her. "Hello, Skye." She holds out her hand. "My name is…Jemma." She seems almost uncertain of this fact, like there's something more she wants to say, something to add.

Skye gives her hand a shake; her skin is soft and smooth, unmarred by even a single callus. Skye feels a sting of embarrassment, an urge to pull her hand away quickly; but Jemma's hand is warm and she manages to resist the urge.

"It's nice to meet you. We don't get a lot of visitors out this way." Skye confesses, only to realize almost immediately that that's not quite true. The visitors that come by are always around to see Lady Agnes or her daughters and have little interest in the household servant.

Agnes' primary focus in life seems to be marrying off her children to the richest men around, preferably ones that come with titles as well as money. It goes without saying that the servant girl has no part in that particular endeavor. Skye has tossed and turned many nights, kept awake by the idea of living in this house and waiting on Agnes until the woman dies. And then she'll probably just be shipped off to work for one of her daughters and her horrible future children.

"I hope you don't mind me barging in." Jemma teases, as though she had any control over the matter. "Obviously Angus here had a mind of his own."

Skye quickly shakes her head. "That's okay, I don't mind." She gestures back toward the garden. "I was just trying to gather up some vegetables and-"

"Well don't let me stop you." Jemma frets, looking genuinely concerned over the completion of this household chore. "I could give you a hand, if you like."

For a brief moment, Skye considers accepting Jemma's request and walking back toward the house with the other girl, chatting happily with her and engaging in a conversation where someone is actually interested in what she has to say. But then she imagines Agnes hearing their voices and coming outside and she quickly puts an end to that little fantasy. Jemma has no idea that she's nothing more than a pathetic servant and it's fun to live a reality where she's just Skye.

"That's okay." Skye assures her quickly. "My…stepmother is sick and I don't want to disturb her."

Jemma's expression softens into one of sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry, Skye." She gives her hand a squeeze. "Is it serious?"

If only. But Skye manages to keep her face expressionless and shake her head. "She should be fine soon."

Angus snorts and lifts his head, flicking his tail impatiently and tugging at the reins in Jemma's hand. "I suppose I should go as well." She mutters, looking over at her horse. "I should get back before…it gets too much later."

"Yeah, I…" Skye trails off, nodding and trying to keep too much of the disappointment out of her voice. She doesn't know what she's thinking or why she's even bothering to let herself get disappointed in the first place. Just because she happened to cross paths with Jemma this morning doesn't mean anything.

And obviously this woman isn't from their small little town; her accent betrays that plainly enough. So what would she want with someone with soot smudges on her forehead and dirt beneath her fingernails?

"Perhaps I…could come back some other time?" Jemma's suggestion nearly floors Skye and she's struck silent, unable to respond. "If that's all right, I mean. Obviously I don't have to…I'm sure you're busy and I don't want to keep you…I simply meant-"

"Sure." Skye interrupts quickly before Jemma can talk herself out of it or she can talk herself out of agreeing. "If you like."

Jemma smiles, relieved. "Yes, I suppose I would like that." She admits, finally pulling her hand away from Skye's. "I hope your stepmother gets better soon."

Skye bites her tongue and fakes a smile rather than respond. Jemma moves toward her horse and instinctively Skye steps forward to help her back into the saddle. But Jemma boosts herself up effortlessly, looking like she's done it a hundred times before.

"It was nice to meet you, Skye." Jemma tells her, her smile as bright as the sun coming up behind her. "I'll have to give Angus an extra snack for running in your direction."

Skye gives Angus an affectionate rub on the nose. "Next time."

"Yes." Jemma nods, giving Angus a light tap with her heels. "Until then."

She turns the horse back in the direction she came galloping in and trots off, giving a final glance over her shoulder and waving. Skye finds herself still smiling long after Jemma has disappeared, her hand still raised in a parting wave.

Eventually, the reality of her life comes crashing back down on her. What the hell is she thinking? Making friends, making plans? She doesn't have time for friends or plans and even if she did…well why would someone like Jemma want to spend her time with someone like Skye?

Cursing herself, Skye shakes her head, turning back and returning to the garden. She might be worrying for nothing. After all, there's nothing that says that Jemma is going to come back again.

*~*~*~*~*~*

When Jemma returns home, she's not at all surprised to find May already waiting for her in the courtyard. She gives the woman a winning smile but it has not effect on May. The Captain of the Guard says nothing as she reaches up, grabbing onto Angus' bridle like she thinks that Jemma is about to race him right back through the castle walls again.

"Good morning, May." Jemma says brightly, like she's done absolutely nothing wrong. Of course, in her opinion she really hasn't. She sighs when her comment is met with nothing but silence and consents to allowing May to lead the horse back toward the stables.

One of the stable hands hurries over, immediately reaching up to help her dismount and Jemma quickly waves him away. "I'm capable of doing it myself." She informs him, though the bitterness in her tone is really for May. "I'm capable of doing plenty of things by myself."

May looks at her, weary and unimpressed. "We've talked about this before, princess. You can't-"

"Jemma will suffice." She interrupts and some of the annoyance she feels fades as she thinks back on her morning with Skye. However briefly, she had been no one but Jemma; she'd been no different from Skye, who thankfully hadn't recognized her as the princess. She longs to go back to that moment where there was no one fretting over her or worrying about her for the silliest of reasons.

May's face remains stolid. "What if you were to get injured or lost? Or if you met someone out there who was not overly fond of your family?" She continues. "There are reasons that you should stay inside the castle."

Jemma sighs. "How boring."

"I'm sorry it doesn't live up to your thrilling expectations." May deadpans, handing Angus over to the stable hand. "Your mother will expect you dressed and ready for breakfast soon."

Rather than waste her time arguing, Jemma just heads out of the courtyard and toward the castle stairs. She knows that she's incredibly fortunate and lucky to have all of the things that her father's kingship has given her but that doesn't mean that she has to be appreciate the rules and restrictions all the time. There are plenty of moments where Jemma wishes that she could be left alone: left alone to explore the rest of the kingdom; left alone to her studies and the books in the library; left alone to do whatever she pleases.

Jemma allows herself to be changed and submits to a grooming by one of her maids before she moves into the dining hall. Her brother, Fitz, is already seated at the long table, spreading honey over his toast. He makes note of the scowl on his sister's face and smirks.

"May caught you again, did she?" Fitz questions, feigning indifference as Jemma plops down beside her.

"Yes." Jemma scowls at the breakfast spread. "But, oh Fitz, I met someone today."

Fitz raises an eyebrow. "Before breakfast? How advantageous of you."

Jemma swats at his arm. "I accidentally went racing through her pasture. She helped me stop Angus before he threw me." She smiles. "We didn't spend much time together but…"

"I do believe you're blushing." Fitz teases her, nudging her playfully in the side. "She made quite an impression, didn't she?"

"I suppose…" Jemma mutters, thinking his words over. Just why has she found herself so taken with Skye? So unable to keep from thinking about her? "It's nice to meet someone who doesn't know who I am."

Fitz nods, sympathetic and understanding. "And just who is she?"

Jemma opens her mouth to reply and finds that she comes up empty. Just who is Skye? They didn't exchange much personal talk, primarily because Jemma was intent on avoiding the subject just in case she slipped up and gave Skye the chance to realize who she was. All she really knows about Skye is that she has dirt under her nails from working in the garden and a sick stepmother.

"She is a bit of a mystery." Jemma concedes, furrowing her brow. "I'm not familiar with the families out in that area." She's well versed in the families that her father considers to be worth knowing, primarily because he's spend the majority of Fitz and Jemma's lives preparing to marry them off. But the land surrounding the town and castle has plenty of households that she's unfamiliar with. "I did make plans to go see her again, so I'll be able to learn a little bit more about her."

Fitz nods but Jemma can sense something in his eyes, something that he's not saying. She gives him a look and he sighs. "Just be careful." He grumbles, knowing her well enough to know that she's not going to appreciate the admonishment, even if it does come from him.

"She doesn't even know who I am, Fitz." Jemma points out peevishly.

"That you are aware of." Fitz protests, no doubt bracing for another sharp retort.

But Jemma just sighs, frowning. "There's just something about her…" She mumbles. "She seems trustworthy."

Or maybe it's just that she's so desperate for someone to spend her time with that she's hoping that Skye is trustworthy. Jemma knows that no hint of misgiving could stop her from going back at least once; she's always been the curious type.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Skye," Agnes scowls, narrowing her eyes, "feeding the rodents again?"

Skye straightens up, brushing off her hands on her apron. "Of course not, stepmother." She lies, watching the mouse scamper off with a kernel of corn. "Just trying to chase them out of the kitchen."

Agnes doesn't look like she believes her and her daughters are looking at Skye with disappointment and revulsion. Skye rolls her eyes at them; maybe if they had to sleep on the kitchen floor with the critters then they would develop a tolerance of them too.

Then Skye can't help but roll her eyes at herself. Honestly it might be for the best that Agnes keeps her hidden away whenever people come by the house.

"You need to go into town." Agnes says, tired with this particular conversation. "We need a few things for the pantry and ribbon for the girls' new dresses."

Agnes continues prattling on but Skye can't help but look down at her own dress enviously. The only time she gets new clothes is when she out grows the old ones. As it has often done over the past few days, her mind turns back toward thoughts of Jemma. She hasn't seen her since that first morning but there's a pathetic part of her that hopes that today will be the day that she sees Jemma again. Of course, looking between her stepsisters and herself, Skye can't help but wonder why someone as well coifed and composed as Jemma would want to spend any sort of time with someone like her.

These are the thoughts still running through her mind as Skye starts off toward town. It's not a far walk from the house, just short of an hour and she doesn't mind because it gives her a chance to get out of the house, away from Agnes and to allow herself to entertain all sorts of delicious thoughts like running away and starting a brand new life somewhere else. Preferably a life where she has lots of nice things and money and can look down on Agnes and her stupid daughters for once.

The idea makes Skye smile and puts an extra spring in her step. She's still smiling when the sound of hoof beats reaches her ears and Skye looks up, stepping off toward the edge of the road. But it's not a carriage, just a lone rider heading in her direction.

It only takes Skye a second to recognize Angus and then seconds later for Jemma to get close enough for Skye to see the features of her face and the smile already on her lips. Jemma pulls Angus to a stop and the horse stretches his head toward Skye, no doubt searching for treats.

"I thought that was you." Jemma says, sliding off the horse. "I was actually just on my way toward your home."

The idea causes a surge of mixed emotions in Skye's gut; on one hand, she's thrilled at seeing Jemma again. On the other, she's terrified of Jemma accidently crossing paths with Agnes.

"It's good we met on the way, then." Skye says quickly. "My stepmother is still sick, she can't handle visitors right now."

Jemma's brow furrows in concern and Skye hates that anyone feels even passing pity for Agnes and her fake illness. "I was actually just going into town to get a few things for her right now." She adds before Jemma has the chance to express any sort of sympathy.

"Would you like some company?" Jemma questions hopefully, tightening her grip on Angus' reins.

Skye tries unsuccessfully to hide her smile. "That would be wonderful."

They walk together, Angus trailing dutifully beside Jemma, his polished black coat gleaming in the sun. As they walk, losing themselves in conversation, it becomes easier and easier for the tightness in Skye's stomach to dissolve, easier for her to shed her worries and inhibitions. Jemma doesn't pry too deep into her personal life, making it easy for her to sidestep any sort of truths about Agnes and the fact that the woman uses her as nothing more than a servant.

Instead, they talk about countless other things, conversational topics that Skye never gave the time of day to before but that sound so interesting and fascinating coming out of Jemma's mouth. It's obvious that Jemma has spent a lot of time exploring the corners of the world, at least in books, because she knows more about everything than Skye could ever hope to know. She'd be more than happy to listen to Jemma talk for hours but the fact that Jemma seems equally as interested in what she has to say only makes the conversation all the more interesting.

Skye can't help but note that Jemma seems just as focused in sidestepping personal things about herself as well, though she does divulge the fact that she has an older brother and a father who seems interested in tracking her every move and a mother who wishes she would spend less time in the library. "I would much rather be in there than wasting my time learning needlepoint." Jemma groans, wrinkling her nose. "I used to hide in there when I was a little girl, hiding behind my father's large chair with a book in my lap."

Skye can't help but imagine the place, cozy and full of books and she can't help but imagine what it would be like to be inside that room with Jemma. She quickly shakes the thought aside, remembering the shopping list in the pocket of her dress and the fact that none of the items on the list are for her. If she ever stepped foot in Jemma's home, her parents would probably mistake her for a servant.

As they get closer to town, Skye can't help but notice that Jemma seems to grow increasingly agitated, nervously glancing around, worrying her lip between her teeth. "Is everything all right?" Skye questions as they step aside for another cart to go rattling by.

"Yes." Jemma says quickly, turning to fiddle with Angus' bridle as the cart passes. She looks back toward Skye. "Quite all right."

Skye looks at her dubiously. "You seem-"

But she doesn't get to find the right word to describe Jemma's change in mood because Jemma interrupts with, "I just realized I have somewhere to be."

Her words surprise Skye and she stops, perplexed. They're nearly in the market; the sounds and smells are tantalizingly close and she's embarrassed to admit that she was looking forward to exploring the stalls and shops with Jemma beside her. It would certainly be more interesting and less lonely than poking around by herself.

"Oh." Skye nods. "Yes, of course."

Jemma looks apologetic, disappointment in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Skye." And when she says it, Skye believes her. "I truly enjoyed walking with you."

Skye smiles. "Me too." She admits.

Jemma bends down, retrieving a daisy from the road, no doubt discarded by a passing cart. The flower is a little rumpled by still intact and she shyly hands it over to Skye. Skye takes it, confused. "To make up for having to leave early. That is…I'm sorry that I can't…I would have liked to…I thought…" Jemma fumbles for the words, clearing her throat. "Perhaps next time."

"Yes." Skye looks down at the flower, feeling a warmth start to bloom in her chest. "Next time."

Jemma is still a little pink in the cheeks as she hoists herself back into Angus' saddle, casting a parting glance in Skye's direction before pulling her hood over her head and putting her heels to Angus' sides. The horse hurries off and Skye finds herself watching until Jemma is out of sight.

She keeps the flower clutched tightly, protectively, in her hand as she goes about her errands, feeling the warmth seem to spread from her chest and throughout her entire body. Skye knows that she shouldn't let her thoughts get away from her, shouldn't let her imagination run wild but there's no harm in letting it go, just a little, she thinks. A flower and a few smiles don't mean anything but still…Skye can feel the idea of hope and happiness vibrate through her body, making her feel stronger than she has in a while. It's a welcome change.

By the time she leaves the market to start her journey back, Skye feels like there's an extra spring to her step that not even the prospect of returning back home can diminish. And when she looks down at the flower in her hands, it looks stronger as well, the petals whiter, the stem straighter, the flower itself bigger. Like her mood is somehow spilling over to the daisy.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Skye makes a habit of attempting to spend the majority of her time outside. The house is cleaner than it's ever been, primarily because it means that she doesn't have to spend her time indoors, scrubbing floors and washing windows. Instead, she invents excuses to do work out of doors, spending far too much time on the laundry or giving extra attention to the garden.

She's unwilling to leave Jemma's visits to chance. She's already warned the other girl off coming to the door, perhaps over doing it a little as she launched into a story about her stepmother's delicate constitution. But she doesn't want to risk it.

Jemma's stops by the house have become more regular and, thankfully, are often in the morning hours when Agnes and her hideous daughters are still asleep. Sometimes Jemma brings them food, still warm, for breakfast and they eat, laughing quietly together while their breath makes clouds in the cool morning air. Or sometimes, Jemma just brings herself, which is more than enough for Skye.

The moments when they have to say goodbye have quickly become the worst parts of Skye's days, aside from the days where she doesn't see Jemma at all. In that case, every moment seems colorless and dull and only the steady vibration of the memory of their visits coursing through her body seems to keep Skye from completely losing it and snapping at Agnes or her daughters.

Today is one such day; something has kept Jemma way, which Skye knows is probably for the best so Agnes doesn't start getting suspicious as to what is keeping Skye occupied so early in the morning. Skye sighs as she submerges her hands into the bucket of soapy water that she's using to carefully clean flashy, vibrant dresses that she'll never get to wear.

Normally the task would have her scowling and grumbling, irritated by her raw hands and the water all over her own dress. But instead, Skye just thinks of Jemma. The warmth in her chest is back, thrumming happily like a reverberating instrument string and she can feel it through her muscle and bone.

And suddenly the water starts to churn around her wrists, even though Skye's movements have stilled. Skye's eyes grow wide as she watches the water rise from the tub, twisting into the air in luminous spirals. It's beautiful...and absolutely terrifying.

Skye gasps, falling backward and putting out her hands to catch her before she sprawls on the ground. She can feel that odd vibrating sensation passing through her arms and into the ground and the grass stands at attention, weaving itself into intricate patterns all around her. She can feel the vibrations in the ground, the whisper of the grass and the roots and trees, humming with happiness the way her whole body has seemed to do since she's started spending her time with Jemma.

Skye lifts her hands, looking at her palms. That feeling of potential is back, the same feeling she gets whenever she's with Jemma which allows her to imagine what it might be like if they could spend all of their time together and not have to sneak around. It makes her curious about what else she might be capable of, assuming that she's actually one the one responsible for the odd events.

Later, when Skye gets the opportunity to go back outside, she checks the spot in the grass, where the blades had been woven together. Now the grass is wilting again but still Skye knows that she made something happen, even if it was only temporary.

*~*~*~*~*~*

At first, Skye doesn't mention anything to Jemma, wanting to perfect whatever odd magic she possesses before sharing it with anyone else. The secret nearly drives her crazy with excitement; if there's anyone who seems capable of enjoying the proof of magic and unexplainable occurrences in the world, it's her studious, library-loving friend.

Skye uses the quiet night hours to practice, sitting up in the kitchen after Agnes and the girls have gone to bed, testing the limits of her abilities. She's never believed in magic, never found any proof of it in her world, until she's able to sit at the table and manipulate the very fibers of the things around her. The magic doesn't last forever, nothing seems to change permanently but still Skye finds the excitement that she feels pales only to how she feels about Jemma.

The morning is chilly but it's strange how warm Skye seems to feel as she settles down on the blanket across from Jemma, accepting the buttery, warm roll that the other girl hands over to her. Angus is munching grass a few feet away, swishing his tail languidly, and Agnes' house is behind them, silent and still in the morning hours. Skye feels like she and Jemma are the only people in the world and she wonders what it would be like if they were.

She certainly wouldn't have to worry about Agnes anymore.

They talk of unimportant subjects as they eat and once Skye is sleepy from her full stomach, they lay back on the blanket, staring up the sky, a favorite past time of Jemma's. They make a habit of finding shapes in the clouds or looking out for the last stars of the night, disappearing as morning comes on strong. Their shoulders are pressed together and those happy vibrations bubble in her chest and Skye feels like she could do anything in this moment. She feels like she could change the entire world around them.

"Jemma," she begins softly, "do you believe in magic?"

Jemma turns her head to look at Skye and their faces are so close that Skye can make out the individual patterns of freckles across the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks. She's beautiful and this is not the first time that Skye has noticed this.

"Magic?" Jemma scrunches up her nose in thought, like she's never considered this word before. "Well…my gov…mother used to tell my brother and I stories about fairies and ghosts and men who could turn into beasts. They seem a bit unbelievable."

Skye smiles. "Not that kind of magic." She rolls her eyes. "More like…people who can do exceptional things. Maybe they're a little different then ordinary people."

Jemma's smile reaches all the way to her eyes, just as it always does. She moves her fingers just enough to brush against Skye's wrist. "I think you're exceptional, Skye."

This is not what Skye was expecting. Rather than feeling elated and pleased by her words, a wave of shame just crashes through her and that warm feeling disappears and the thrumming vibrations with it. She sits up, pulling her hand away and looking toward the house, away from Jemma. As soon as she walks back through the door, she'll be a servant, doing everything that Agnes and her daughters tell her to and doing it without question or protest. These moments with Jemma are nothing but a lie.

"I'm not exceptional." She whispers, clenching her jaw.

Jemma sits up, nearly pressing into Skye's side. They've never been close like this before and it makes it hard for Skye to get her breath, hard for her to remember why she's so upset.

Jemma leans forward, kissing her softly on the cheek. "Yes, you are." She says softly.

Skye looks back at her, eyes wide in surprise. Her skin tingles from where Jemma kissed her and suddenly she feels foolish enough to believe Jemma's words. And foolish enough to lean forward and kiss her quickly, suddenly afraid that she might have misread the situation.

But the smile on Jemma's face suggests otherwise.

*~*~*~*~*~*

May looks unimpressed when Jemma comes riding in, a grin still on her face. She quickly grabs Angus' bridle, eyes narrowing slightly. "Your parents have been looking for you." She tells Jemma flatly and the tone of her voice makes Jemma immediately dismount.

"Is everything all right?" Jemma questions, trepidation creeping in with the buoyancy in her chest.

May just gives her a look and Jemma isn't quite sure what to gather from that particular reaction.

It doesn't take her long to figure out exactly why her parents have been looking for her and why May was unable to come up with a suitable answer to her question.

"A ball?" Jemma questions as she stares at her parents, trying to sort out the news that they've just told her. "Here?"

Her mother sighs, exasperated. "Yes, here, Jemma." She shakes her head. "This is our home."

Jemma looks over at Fitz, sitting slumped in the chair beside her. His face is stormy but resigned.

"You're having a ball to find Fitz a wife?" Jemma finds herself repeating, even though these are the exact words that just came out of her father's mouth. "You're going to marry him to a strange girl that he meets at a party?"

Her father frowns. "This is the best way to find a suitable match for him." He tells her frankly. "There will be many eligible young women at the ball."

"A good way to widen our prospects." Her mother adds cheerfully, clearly pleased by this idea.

Jemma looks back to Fitz. "But-"

"This wasn't meant to be a discussion." Her mother interrupts. "We were simply telling you so there would be no more sneaking off. We can't risk you missing the big event. There will even be some handsome, eligible men there as well."

Jemma makes a croak of protest but it really doesn't seem to make a difference.

"Yes, perhaps you can marry us both off." Fitz grumbles wearily. "Two birds with one stone."

Jemma thinks she would rather be hit with the stone.

"A ball?" Skye questions the following morning as she listens to Agnes relay the news to her daughters. "At the palace?"

Agnes looks at her, annoyed. "I didn't realize we'd gotten a parrot."

Skye ignores her. "When is it?" She questions. "Who is invited?"

"Every eligible woman in the kingdom." Agnes' oldest daughter, Drizella chirps happily.

Anastasia, the youngest, only frowns. "Well," she gives Skye the once over, "not every woman." She and her sister burst into laughter.

Skye scowls, tightening her hands into fists. It's not the first time she's felt the vibrations hum through her body and allowed herself to entertain the idea that maybe not everything she could create would be beautiful.

"That's right." Agnes says frankly. "We need your help to get the girls beautiful and ready for their big night. Surely one of them will be able to catch the eye of the prince." She smiles indulgently at her ugly children.

Skye doesn't know much about the prince but she certainly hopes that he has enough taste to avoid those two at all costs.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It isn't until the day before the ball that Skye feels brave –or perhaps stupid- enough to bring up the idea of her attending after all.

"The invitation does say every eligible woman." She points out casually as she pins up Drizella's ugly dress. "You don't want to disobey an order from the king."

Agnes scoffs. "There is far too much work to be done here for you to even consider going to the ball. I'm certain he understands exceptions can be made." She replies flatly. "I hardly consider you eligible. What prince would ever look twice at you."

Skye ignores the words, unwilling to let them find their mark. After all, she doesn't actually care if the prince looks twice at her. All she can think about is Jemma.

She hasn't seen her in the three days after their kiss in the field and she's certain it's just because something is keeping her occupied and not because she regrets the kiss. Or rather, kisses. She hopes.

But Skye is certain that Jemma would fall into the category of eligible woman; even though they haven't spoken much about her home life, it's obvious that Jemma is cultured and wealthy and that's exactly the type of woman that she suspects a king would want for his son. She's desperate to see Jemma again, to see her smile and hear her voice. Desperate enough to entertain the idea of going to the palace and attending a ball in the hopes of seeing her.

Of course, she can hardly explain all of this to Agnes.

"There are plenty of extra, unused dresses here." Skye points out, flicking her gaze toward the large wardrobe. The girls seem to grow bored of their clothes quicker than it takes the sun to set.

Agnes laughs cruelly, shaking her head. "Foolish girl." She snaps. "It would be embarrassing to take you to the palace. Even the nicest dress would look like a rag on you."

This time, her words do sting, only because Skye can't help but wonder if maybe she might be right. And maybe that is the real reason she hasn't seen Jemma recently.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Despite her misgivings, Skye isn't ready to give up on her plan to make it to the palace. The temptation to see Jemma is too strong and she's willing to seize any opportunity, even if she's not completely certain that Jemma will even be there.

And there's a part of Skye that figures that she's also very interested in what her powers can do. This seems like the perfect excuse to test them out.

Nothing she seems to do lasts forever; there seems to be an expiration to her magic, leaving it to fade away and leave every flower, stone, object and dress the way it had been before. But it's growing stronger, lasting longer and she's willing to test her limits.

After all, how many opportunities is she going to have to go to a ball?

She steals into Anastasia's room, taking one of her old, forgotten dresses out of the wardrobe and holds it in her hands. The humming that she hears from the fabric -the vibrations that seem to course from it and into her hands- seems quiet and sluggish and panic tightens her heart, fear that she won't be able to do this. That she isn't exceptional after all.

And then she thinks of Jemma and seeing her at the ball and it seems easy after that to whisper to the vibrations in the dress and make it do whatever she wants.

By the time she's finished, the dress is far more beautiful than it was when Anastasia wore it. She's certain even Agnes won't recognize it, though hopefully she won't cross paths with the woman tonight.

And the shoes in her hands…they'll be equally unrecognizable, Skye thinks. For something made of glass, they are surprisingly sturdy and hold her weight with ease. Not that she'd really intended to go with a pair of glass slippers but obviously magic has a sense of humor.

*~*~*~*~*~*

There are more people at the ball then Skye had imagined, though she isn't sure why the number of attendees take her by surprise. Surely parents all over the kingdom are jumping at the opportunity to try and marry off their daughter to a prince, even if he is a perfect stranger.

It makes it hard for Skye to find her own way in the crowd, let alone try to find someone else. The music is loud, vibrating off the large stone walls of the ballroom and the strains of violin and brass mix with happy and envious chatter. There are servants all around, steeping deftly around the guests to offer flutes of champagne or bite sized pieces of foods that Skye has never seen before. For a brief and terrifying moment, she thinks that the people all around are going to see right through her, that her magic will fail and remind everyone that she belongs with the rest of the servants attending to the guests that are actually supposed to be here. But the only glances she receives are jealous and appraising ones.

Skye moves through the crowd, her stomach churning with anxiety at the thought of bumping into Agnes or one of her daughters. But the anticipation and hope of seeing Jemma keeps her moving forward, scanning the faces around her, desperate to find her friend. Though there's no denying the fact that Jemma is far more than that now.

As she walks, Skye can't help but notice the heads turning in her direction, the murmurs that follow her wherever she goes. Maybe she overdid it a little with the dress and the shoes are obviously not helping her blend in. Attracting attention was definitely not her original intention, unless it was the attention of Jemma, who still appears to be no where to be found.

What if she was wrong? What if Jemma isn't here after all and she's risked everything for nothing? What if Agnes catches her here and she doesn't even get a glimpse of Jemma for her troubles?

"Excuse me, miss?" The voice manages to cut through the chatter around her and Skye stops in mid-step, turning to look over her shoulder and into the face of the person who has surely figured out by now that she doesn't belong here and is about to drag her from the palace and remind her where she belongs. "Would you care to dance?"

It's the prince. Skye recognizes him from the few times he's come into town with his father, the two of them droning on to their subjects about policy and providing empty assurances of the improvement of things that will ultimately never change. She's heard Agnes' daughters wax poetic about his features, though their words haven't done him justice, have failed to pick up on his soft, gentle, boyish features and gentle smile.

Skye only stares at him. "Me?"

Fitz smiles at her and the few women around her twitter with annoyance and jealousy. "If that's all right."

Unfortunately, Skye would like for nothing more than to decline his invitation. She's not here to dance with any princes, especially not when she hasn't even seen a single hair on Jemma's head. And what if Jemma finally shows up and sees her dancing with the prince? That's not exactly the type of message she wants to send.

But she's certain that she can't say no to the prince when he asks her to do something.

So Skye offers him her hand and Fitz smiles softly, leading her out onto the dance floor. Up close, she can see that his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, that there's something stiff and unwilling in his posture. He puts his hands on her hip and shoulder, holding her gently but not closely. Skye has never danced before in her entire life and now she's about to waltz with the prince in front of hundreds of people. This is definitely not how she saw this evening going.

Thankfully Fitz is good at leading, moving her through the steps effortlessly. Skye can't help but keep cast glances around at the faces of those gathered on the edges of the dance floor, watching. Still no sign of Jemma. And, thankfully, no sign of Agnes either.

"You seem nervous." Fitz remarks as they move dutifully through the steps.

"So do you." Skye replies without thinking and instantly regrets the words. "I mean…"

But the prince only laughs. "I'm not used to these sorts of parities." He admits. "My parents are the only ones who truly seem to enjoy them. My sister and I would both rather be safely in the library."

His words only make her think of Jemma once more and Skye glances toward the crowd of onlookers, desperately hoping to see her.

Instead, her eyes settle on Agnes and Skye can tell by the murderous reaction on her fact that she's been recognized for who she truly is by at least one person. She's certain that she's never see Agnes look so angry or so embarrassed before in all the years that she's spent with the woman.

Immediately, Skye steps back, pulling away from Fitz. "I'm sorry. I need to…I can't…"

As Fitz makes a sound of protest, Skye turns around and connects squarely with another person, nearly knocking them both to the ground. Thankfully they manage to avoid that fate, something Skye is grateful for, considering that she's already done enough damage here, she thinks.

"Skye."

She lifts her head and meets eyes with Jemma. The surprise that she sees on the other woman's face is nothing compared to the shock that Skye is certain is evident on her own features.

It's clear by Jemma's dress, by her coifed hair and the glittering tiara that rests amidst her honey curls that Skye has finally crossed paths with the second member of the royal family.

"You." Skye says breathlessly, her throat growing tight. "You're the princess."

Jemma winces slightly, her expression guilty. "I…" She reaches for Skye's hand and she's too surprised to remember that she should probably pull away. "Perhaps we can go somewhere and talk."

Skye allows herself to be lead away, casting a glance back toward Agnes, still standing on the edge of the crowd, clearly annoyed that her murderous intentions have been momentarily thwarted by the royal family.

Jemma leads her out of the ballroom and outside, into the garden. Skye takes a deep breath, relived to be away from all the music and sounds and staring. But that only gives her the opportunity to truly focus on what's going on.

Jemma is the princess. The princess. Skye feels like an idiot for ever thinking that maybe, somehow, someway, they could be together. That they could run away and start over somewhere else and that she could actually be worth Jemma's attention and that everything would work out. Now…well…Skye knows enough to realize that princesses don't ever run away with servants.

"I'm sorry." Jemma says immediately, as soon as they sit down on a cool, marble bench in the privacy of the garden. "I never should have…I should have told you before."

Skye only looks at her, unable to formulate the words to explain why it feels like her heart is breaking.

"I just wanted…I wanted to be around someone who wasn't only interested in me because I was a princess." Jemma continues on, apparently unbothered by her silence. "I wanted to be myself, without all the rules and expectations and…I shouldn't have lied to you, Skye, I never wanted to hurt you or…you mean so much to me, I can't imagine not seeing you every day and talking with you and…"

Jemma swallows, reaching out to take her hand. Skye reaches for her instinctively, looking down at their hands, such a familiar sight after their countless mornings together. But underneath Jemma's hand on her lap, the color of her Skye's dress is starting to fade, the shine giving way to the drab underneath. The magic is starting to wear off.

Quickly, Skye pulls her hand away, getting to her feet. "I…" She takes a step back, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She can feel the magic growing weaker, the hum and vibrations of the fabric growing softer, slower. "I can't…I have to…"

The last thing she wants is for Jemma to look at her now and see who she really is. Not after everything she's just said, not when she still thinks that Skye is worthy of her affections. She's just a servant, sitting here with a princess. Skye feels shame turn her face hot and fill her eyes with tears.

"I have to…" Skye's voice breaks off and she shakes her head, turning and hurrying away from Jemma, rushing through the garden.

Jemma calls after her, shouting her name desperately but Skye ignores her, focusing only on getting as far away as she possibly can before the magic is gone completely. She can hear Jemma trying to follow after her and that only makes Skye run faster.

She stumbles, losing her footing, kicking aside one of the slippers the threatens to impede her progress. Finally Skye makes it to the outskirts of the garden, the edge of the palace property. She hesitates only briefly, wanting so badly to go back to Jemma and tell her everything, to admit that she hasn't been the only one lying by omission.

But she doesn't. It's one thing to lie about being a princess. It's a completely different story to lie about being a servant.

*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time Skye makes it back to Agnes' home, the magic has completely worn off, leaving her in Anastasia's old dress, her hair hanging straight and tangled down to her shoulders. Her feet are bare and sore; in her hand is the remaining glass slipper, which has retained its magic despite the fact that everything else has disappeared. At one point, she had thrown the slipper off into the undergrowth with a growl of rage and frustration, but she'd eventually gone back to retrieve it from the thicket, so now Anastasia's old dress is dirty and tattered. Something she's sure Agnes will have something to say about, in spite of the fact that her daughter hasn't put the dress on in years.

Skye is tired and her body feels heavy and useless. She thinks that the worst part about this entire night is that she's forced to return home, even though she would like nothing more than to keep walking. She has no where else to go.

Agnes is, predictably, waiting for her when she finally walks in. The girls are no where to be seen, something that Skye is at least grateful for.

Skye doesn't say anything, doesn't have it in her. Though, she never has, it seems. There have been so many times where she wanted to stand up straighter, to look Agnes in the eye and tell her 'no.' But now…she's just too tried. Jemma is more unobtainable than ever; her hopes for the two of them, her desperate longing for her, all of it is gone. She never should have let herself hope for anything in the first place. So what does it matter if Agnes is upset with her now?

"You wretched, ungrateful girl." Agnes snarls at her, getting to her feet and crossing the space between them. "Haven't I cared for you? Given you shelter? Taken you in? Fed you? And this is how you repay me! Embarrassing this entire family by daring to show up at the ball, by dancing with the prince!"

Skye starts to protest, to assure Agnes that she has absolutely no interest in the prince. No, it's the princess who has her heart, for all that that's worth.

But Agnes doesn't give her the chance. She just grabs Skye by the shoulder with one hand, using the other to tear the glass slipper away from her. Skye tries to wrench herself free, to twist away from the tight, punishing grip, even if just to retrieve the slipper but Agnes doesn't give her the chance. Instead, she propels her forward, throwing open the cellar door and forcing Skye down the steps.

Skye throws herself against the door, slamming against the wood with the palms of her hands. But it's useless. The sound of the bolt sliding into place seems impossibly loud in the darkness.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jemma has Angus saddled and out of the courtyard before most of the palace has begun to stir. The servants have been awake for hours, cleaning from last night's ball and preparing food for the day but no one spares her a second glance as she goes riding off. Not that she would stop even if they asked. She has somewhere important to be.

As she rides, Jemma thinks only of Skye, of the look on her face the night before when she'd discovered the truth. It had been something more than betrayal, something more than surprise. There had been a heavy sadness there too, like someone who had just had everything taken from them.

All Jemma wants is to assure her that she hasn't lost her.

Wrapped carefully in the pocket of her riding cloak is the glass slipper she found the night before, the only proof that Skye had ever been there at all.

When Jemma gets to the field where she's met Skye so often before, she finds it empty. There's no sign that Skye has been out there at all, no sign that she's been waiting or hoping for Jemma to arrive. She tries to ignore the flutter of panic in her chest, the thought that tells her that she's lost Skye forever, instead dismounting and leaving Angus to graze as she walks toward the front of the house.

Skye has always warned her against knocking on the door, of letting her stepmother know of their almost daily meetings. But Jemma figures that desperate times call for desperate measures.

The woman that answers her knock does not smile, does not welcome Jemma past the foyer and into her home. She also does not seem to recognize Jemma now that she's out of her fancy gown and tiara, which is just fine with Jemma. She gives Jemma the once over, her lips pursing like she's just tasted something particularly tart. "Yes?"

Jemma straightens her shoulders. "I'm here to see Skye." She tells the woman. "Is she here?"

"Skye?" The woman repeats and only the disdain in her eyes gives away the fact that she knows exactly who Jemma is talking about. "There is no one here by that name."

"Please." Jemma steps forward, reaching out as the woman tries to shut the door in her face. She tries to peer over her shoulder, looking into the house. There are two girls sitting on the sofa, not even trying to hide the fact that they're watching the scene unfold but there's no sign of Skye. "It's important."

"Kindly remove yourself from my doorstep." The woman growls, stepping forward so that Jemma backs out of the door frame. "Immediately."

The door slams shut and Jemma can hear the lock click into place. For a while, she remains, hoping that maybe Skye will come out of the house after all and that everything will be the way that it should. She hopes that Skye will see her and smile and the knot in her chest will disappear and she can take Skye in her arms and kiss her soundly, like she's been wanting to do since their first kiss days before.

But eventually it becomes clear that Jemma is waiting around for nothing.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Fitz," Jemma isn't surprised to find her brother in the library, no doubt decompressing from the night before and all of the women who now expect to be his bride, "I need your help."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Jemma waits impatient and out of sight as Fitz walks up toward the front door, dressed in all his finery, his fingers wrapped around Skye's glass slipper. He knocks on the door, just as she had done the day before. And the same woman answers, though her reaction is far different than the one she'd had when she'd found Jemma standing on the door step.

"Your majesty," Agnes breathes out, dropping into a curtsey, "to what do we owe the honor of your visit?"

Fitz smiles politely at her. "I am looking for the owner of this slipper." He holds up the glass shoe. "I met her at the ball and I believe she lives her."

Agnes looks at the shoe but her desperately ravenous expression doesn't change, doesn't suggest that she recognizes it. "Yes, of course. My daughters…I'm sure one of them is who you are thinking of." She gestures for Fitz to enter the house. "They make quite the impression. Girls?"

Fitz steps into the house and Jemma quickly follows after him, a victorious smirk on her face she passes Agnes. Agnes looks shocked to see her again, only this time her expression is tinged with recognition. Jemma was certain to dress the part of a princess this time and it's obvious that Agnes has realized her mistake.

Two girls who are most definitely not Skye have gathered in the parlor, looking like they're about to collapse on the floor in a swoon. They seem like they can barely hold themselves together under the weight of Fitz's stare.

Jemma looks toward Agnes. "And your stepdaughter?" She prompts.

Agnes doesn't reply until Fitz chimes in with, "I need to test the slipper on all your daughters, madam."

"I apologize, your highness." Agnes says, but her eyes are on Jemma. "I only have two daughters. And one servant girl."

Jemma looks at her in surprise and something seems to click inside her mind. Now it all makes sense: why Skye was so adamant that they always meet outside; why she was so surprised to discover that she was the princess. Not because Jemma had lied to her but because she'd thought that her low station would somehow be important to Jemma. Like she would care about Skye's dirty hands and tattered clothes.

"Where is she?" Jemma questions, keeping her voice level, her eyes narrowed.

For a while there is nothing but silence and Jemma feels her frustration rise. She looks over at Fitz, who, in turn, gives his attention back to Agnes' daughters. Predictably, they crack underneath his gaze. "In the cellar." One of them pipes up quickly. "She's in the cellar."

Jemma quickly hurries over and unlocks the door, throwing it open. Skye is sitting at the foot of the stairs, a weary expression of resignation on her face. She looks up, surprised to see Jemma standing there and Jemma can't stop the smile from crossing her face. Honestly, the slipper was just a ruse; she doesn't need it to know that Skye is the girl she's fallen in love with.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"None of this was necessary, Jemma," Skye says quietly as they're walking together through the fields later, away from Agnes' murderous gaze and the disappointed envy of her daughters, "I understand."

Jemma looks at her curiously. "Understand what?"

Skye sighs, unable to meet her gaze. "You're the princess. I'm…not a princess. I'm not even…" She swallows, shaking her head. "Agnes took me in when I was a little girl and I've been working for her and her daughters ever since. Cleaning, cooking, taking care of every menial task they can invent." She frowns at the bitterness in her tone.

"And you." Skye continues, finally willing herself to look up at Jemma. "You're…"

But she doesn't know the right word. Beautiful? Amazing? Better than I could ever be?

"We're incompatible." She says finally.

Jemma tries not to let Skye's words settle over her, tries not to let them pull her down. The idea of letting her slip away now, because of this, it seems unthinkable. "Skye." She stops walking, reaching for Skye's hands. "Do you care that I'm a princess? Does that matter to you?"

Skye is quick to shake her head. "No, of course not. That's not all that you are."

"Then why would I care that they've made you into a servant girl?" Jemma questions softly. "That's not all you are."

Skye kisses her then and Jemma doesn't think that she's ever been happier.

Of course, when Skye consents to come back to the palace with her and Fitz, she thinks that she might be just a smidgen happier. If only because it means that she can kiss Skye again and take her in her arms, unwilling to let her go.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Eventually, there is a wedding in the kingdom, though this one isn't for power or political purposes or royal motivation. This one is for love. And the story of the servant girl who fell in love with a princess quickly spreads throughout the kingdom, becoming a favorite tale for children and wistful maidens alike. Which, of course, results in an impressively large turnout for the wedding itself.

Though, there are three faces that are noticeably absent, by order of the princess. Not that Skye thinks that Agnes and her daughters could have made it anyway. Since she's been at the palace, she's certain their workload has grown exponentially.

Not that Skye is thinking about her stepmother and stepsisters as she smiles at Jemma and kisses her. All she can think about is all the kisses and happily-ever-afters to come.


End file.
